What’s in a name?

Oohhh, that double-edged sword of a name. Cherished and condemned. A word that lights up your heart and gets of your nerves.

It starts when you’re pregnant. Someone calls you Mommy. It made my cheeks burn red and I always felt like an imposter. I wasn’t doing any… you know, mothering. I popped a couple of prenatal vitamins here and there. I made some prenatal appointments. I wasn’t like wiping poopy butts or losing sleep or checking temperatures analy or what not.

Then more awkwardness. My husband and I, chatting away at a baby that can’t speak and has no idea what we’re saying. He tries to indicate to the child that he needs to look over at me ’cause I’m acting funny or whatever, trying to get him to laugh. So he says something along the lines of, “Evan! Look at… umm… her. Evan, look at Amber!” I stop and whisper, “Maybe we should call ourselves Mommy and Daddy or something?” So: “Evan! Look at… Mommy.” It was just so WEIRD. Calling ourselves Mommy and Daddy. It might be just me… but that was just bizarre.

Then the coveted First Word. Wayne and I spent months hovering over Evan.

SAY MAMA! Sugar, SAY MAMA!! MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA

No! DADA. SAY DADA Evan! DADA!

Can you say MAMA?

DADA? DADA? Da…

dada’s a stupid word Evan, SAY MAMA. MMMMMmmmmmmm. Aaaaaahhhhh.

DADA. Say DADA, Evan! DADADADADADADADADADADADADADADADA!

Like this. Only with more volume and enthusiasm. Alas. Dada was to win. Although I say it was easier to pronounce and he didn’t realize what he was saying. Because I’m an asshole.

In April/Mayish of this year I was out-of-town and away from Dada and Evan for a few weeks. I was aching to see my son. Dada was doing his best at sending me photos and videos and trying to get him to “talk” to me on the phone. Then there was this one video of Evan running back and forth in the kitchen. Then he runs to the steps and Wayne walks up to him and says, “Say MOMMY” and then there is this sweet little sound, barely more than a whisper, “mammee”. Holy crap y’all, if I had a car I would have driven cross-country to get back home. Like right then. Like, ‘fuck packing’ right then. As it was, I cried myself to sleep while watching the video again and again. The next day I called to “talk” to Evan while he was at daycare. He said Mommy again.

I’ve been Mommy from then on.

He’ll look at me and smile when I try to get him to laugh and say MOMMY with a little smirk at the end like, OH MOMMY YOU ARE SO SILLY BUT THAT’S WHY I LOVE YOU.

When he wants my attention: MOMMY

When I arrive at daycare to pick him up: MOMMY!! as he runs at me at full force.

When he wants me to stop: MOMMY! NooooooooOO!

When he want me to come get him from another room: MOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEE

When I’m driving and he wants me to dangerously look back at him: Mommy. MOMMY. MOOOOOOOMMEEEEEEE! So I look back: MOMMY with a smirk like I TOTALLY KNEW I COULD GET YOU TO LOOK BACK HERE.

When he wants me to play with him: MOMMY? with a car or a ball or a book in his out stretched hand.

When he’s playing evil child and ROWRS and is all: MOMMY with a raspy, scary, bass voice and a children of the corn stare. Then I’m supposed to hide and pretend I’m scared of the creepy voice, and Evan giggles and MOMMYs again… but really I am creeped out. *shivers*

When he falls: MOMMY!

When he wants something, anything: MOMMMMMEEE! Mommy?

When I have to hold him down to do something unpleasant like taking off a band-aid: MOooooooooMmmmmmmMY!!?

When he decides he no longer wants to be held by this other person or I’m trying to put him in another persons arms: MOMMY!

When he wants up: whine MOMMY whine UP.

When he’s proud of something I’ve done: MOMMY! YAY! YAY MOMMY!

When we are all sitting down to eat: MOMMY. UP. whine MOMMY! UP! UUUUUUUP! MOMMY! AWW DUN! MOMMY!

When I’m watching my stories: MOMMY! DODA N BOOTS!

When he’s telling on Dada: MOMMY!? Dada.

When he’s looking for something: MOMMY?

When I’m reading: Mommy? MOMMY? Mommmmmmmeeeeeee?

It’s music to my ears sometimes and cridgeworthy sometimes, but it’s my name.